Roses of the Rainbow
by Live.Laugh.Love.Read
Summary: Roses come in so many differnt colors, and each one has a unique meaning. What do they mean for Tony when giving them to Ziva? Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Friendship

_Title: Roses of the Rainbow_

_Summary: Roses come in so many different colors, and each one has a unique meaning. What do they mean for Tony when giving them to Ziva?_

_Disclaimer: I am so extremely flattered you think that NCIS belongs to me. But if that were true, would I really be writing this? And wouldn't Tony and Ziva be together already? Oh well, maybe for a graduation present…_

_This is my first fanfiction! I'm really excited to know what you think of it! This will probably have about ten chapters, each for a different color rose. I know this idea might be a little weird, but I always loved when my mom told me how my dad gave her a different color rose each time they went on a date. I thought that was really cute, so I just changed some details and this is what I ended up with._

Roses of the Rainbow

Chapter One: Friendship

It was never easy. Not for a minute. From the moment she stepped out of the elevator for that first time, walking up to my desk and having the nerve to ask me if I was having phone sex, I knew I was in trouble. When I found out she was Mossad, it just proved me right. She was witty, beautiful, and dangerous as hell. When I learned the reason for her being here, protecting Ari, I thought any chance of us becoming friends was gone. The bastard killed my partner; I knew he deserved to die. Later, when Ari was gone and she was thought of as part of the team, I let my walls down a little. I tried to become friends, but labeled it a lost cause; she was a closed book and didn't open up, at least not to me. That didn't stop me from making jokes and movie references though. But after a while, I thought the only thing that joking around was doing was earning me more head-slaps than I would like to remember. Then, slowly, she let me in. Finally the day had come.

I walked into the bull pen smiling slightly as I caught sight of her sitting at her desk. I was whistling the theme song of a classic T.V. show as I happily crossed over to her corner. I pulled a single long-stemmed yellow rose out from behind my back and placed it gently on Ziva's desk. She watched me wearily as I sat down in my own seat casually, as if I gave roses to her every day. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she picked up the rose, grasping it tightly between her thumb and pointer finger. She studied it through narrowed eyes, and I knew she hated how confused she was feeling at that moment. "What is this Tony?" She asked cautiously, as if afraid to know the answer.

I smirked and said innocently, "That's a flower Zee-vah. They don't have any in Israel?"

Ziva frowned and dropped the rose back on her desk, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know what I meant Tony."

I never got a chance to reply. Gibbs rushed into the room clutching his ever-present cup of coffee with McGee hot on his heels. "Grab your gear. We've got a case." I was secretly glad. That rose probably means a lot more to me than it does to her and I want to keep it that way. She would hand it back to me if she knew the meaning, saying it was silly and unnecessary.

Yellow roses represent friendship. I wanted something to make this friendship different than others. Maybe like a good-luck charm. I want it to last, and grow. At the very least, it would be great not to have her as an enemy.

...

Although Ziva would never say it out loud, she was oddly flattered by the unexpected rose. When they got home that night, after a long hard day at work, she filled up a vase with water, placing the beautiful flower inside it. She went to bed that night, thinking of how her room looked so much more joyful because of that one bright yellow rose.

...

The next morning, I walked into the bullpen hesitantly, afraid Ziva would do some crazy ninja stunt to get the reason for the rose out of me. I stepped forward, quickly spinning back around so she didn't surprise me from behind. I was strung so tightly, all it took was a tap on the shoulder to make me take a swing at someone.

My fist hit empty air though. Suddenly my feet were knocked out from under me and I landed on the floor, emitting a grunt of annoyance as my back hit the ground. My shoulders were pinned down and a knee was pushing on my stomach. Ziva looked as surprised as I must have. She quickly got off of me, saying as an excuse, "Sorry. Reflex."

"Of course it was." I ground out from between clenched teeth. I got up off the floor slowly, staggering to my chair and sitting down. She just watched me with amusement. The corners of her lips were twitching from the effort of not laughing. She turned around and sat in her own chair, finally letting a small laugh out.

"Something funny David?" I asked lightly, smiling at her happy, girlish laugh.

"No, no." She said, still snickering. "You Americans are just always so theatrical."

"Are you insinuating something?" I asked, feigning hurt. Then I felt a sharp smack to my head and watched as Gibbs made his way to his desk. "What was that for boss?" I shouted indignantly.

Gibbs paused to look over his shoulder at me. "You yelling at me DiNozzo?"

"No boss, what would make you think that?" I told him, quickly typing on my computer to make it look like I was doing something. I could sense Ziva's silent laughter as Gibbs walked upstairs to the director's office. When he was gone, Ziva grinned at me, and I felt myself smiling back. And right then, I knew that our friendship would hold.

_So how was it? Please review and tell me If you loved it, hated it, or are somewhere in between. I always enjoy constructive criticism, but please don't be unnecessarily rude. I mean if you don't like it, just don't read it. _


	2. Loss

_Disclaimer: Yeah right, I wish._

_To everyone who reviewed, put me on story/author alert, or just read it: Thank You Thank You Thank You Thank You Thank You Thank You Thank You! I could go on, but…_

_Anyways, you are all awesome. But to everyone who didn't review, could you please give me some feedback? I would really appreciate knowing what you liked, hated, or anything like that. I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing, and it would be great if you guys could help me out with that._

_This chapter isn't as… happy, but it ends well! Personally, I love this chapter. So please enjoy!_

Chapter Two: Loss

Death. It happens; every single day many people die. Most of the time, you don't care. That's the hard, sad truth of it. Natural disasters, murders, suicides… I could go on. We are all so used to it, brought up with it even. But when it is someone you knew, it's not as easy to brush off. And when it's a family member, as well as someone you worked with, you don't…can't… ignore the fact that they are now gone from the world. Then there are times, mind you- they rarely happen, when you kill that loved one yourself. I know one such person: Ziva David.

I know what you're thinking, but she's not insane, and definitely not a bad person. Ziva had to make a choice, and no matter what she chose, someone would die in the end. So she chose to save the man who had a good heart, and someone she would come to think of as a father. She put an end to a corrupt, immoral young man who had a gun pointed at Gibbs' head. And even though we all know she made the right choice, we also know how hard it was, and still is, for her.

So here I am. On the anniversary of Ari's death. Standing in the pouring rain, watching Ziva sit motionless on a park bench. I walk closer, intentionally dragging my feet for noise to make her aware of my presence. Her eyes flicker up to meet mine before dropping down again. I don't let her see any pity in my eyes, knowing she would hate that. Only sympathy and sadness for her loss. I sit down next to her, not saying a word, soaking my designer suit in the process. Right now, I could care less, so I fold up my umbrella I previously had open to shield myself from the rain. I put my arm around her shoulders, wanting to comfort her in any way I could. At first I think she will pull away, but she begins to relax as the minutes pass by. Suddenly, she's crying. She turns away from me, ashamed at showing any weakness to me. I take her chin firmly, but gently and turn her to face me. "There is never anything wrong with crying." I tell her. "You know you can trust me Ziva." I murmur quietly to her. "You can count on me."

So she cries. I think it might be the first time she has really has let go, and I'm glad it's with me. The rain washes away her tears, so the only evidence is her red rimmed eyes. Soon the rain starts to stop, along with the tears. She looks at me, smiling faintly. "Thank you Tony." She whispers.

"Any time." And I mean it.

"I think I just need to be alone for a little while now. To gather my thoughts, yes?" I know she's telling me the truth. Sometimes, even the people who crave attention the most just need some time to themselves.

I smile understandingly, and stand up. "If you need me, just call." I say looking down at her small, weary form. She gives a nod of reassurance and looks back to the ground, thinking. I pull something out of the inside of my coat, thankful it wasn't crushed. I set the deep dark red, nearly black, rose on her lap. "I'm so sorry for your loss Ziva." That's all I say, before turning and walking away towards home.

Black roses represent loss. I hope I helped her with this particular loss today.

...

Ziva stared down at the rose Tony had left her. The vibrant, emerald green stem contrasted beautifully with the nearly black petals. If you didn't look too closely, you would think it was black. But Ziva had been trained to notice every single detail, no matter how small. She took it home that night, placing it in the vase next to the yellow rose.

...

I walked into the office the next morning slightly nervous. I didn't know what to expect from Ziva today. I don't want her to go back to being the cold, distant Ziva. She has recently learned to occasionally let her guard down around us, and I want her to keep being that trusting. I tense as she walks in, afraid she will not acknowledge me, but also afraid she will. I have no reason to fear though. She comes up to my desk, looking calm and peaceful. "Thank you." She says, then sits in her own chair, turning her attention to her computer. There was so much emotion in those two words, McGee looked up from his newly acquired computer software to stare at me questionably.

"Something wrong Probie?" I ask, already having decided that last night will be between me and Ziva only.

"No…" He answers slowly, before turning back to his computer.

"Grab your gear." Gibbs says, jogging down the stairs from MTAC.

"Gladly!" I say to myself. I really need to get out of this office.

Gibbs caught Ziva's arm before she could reach the elevator, signaling the occupants to go ahead. "Are you okay Ziva?" Gibbs asks, concerned. He remembers what yesterday was, and knows it must have been hard.

Ziva takes a breath, pausing before she says, "I'm fine Gibbs. Perfectly fine." Surprise colors her words, because she realizes she means it. And she knows it's because of Tony, and a random act of kindness in the form of a rose.


	3. Innocence

_Disclaimer: If only I were so lucky as to own NCIS! Woe is me! For I cannot take credit for this magnificent show!_

_Once again, thank you for the reviews/alerts!_

Chapter Three: Innocence

Ziva David can kick ass. It's a fact, not an opinion. She can fight amazingly, come up with great comebacks on a seconds notice, and is always cool, calm, and collected. But… there is one exception. Isn't there always?

I looked down at my partner, enjoying those few seconds when I felt superior. The sight of my partner, scowling fiercely, sitting down on the ice with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, made me smile despite myself. We were at an ice- skating rink, and Ziva was not as amused as I was to the fact that she had no prior experience ice-skating. The thought of a picture I had received months before made me start laughing uncontrollably. The picture was of my three year-old niece when she had been deprived of a snack because of bad behavior; Ziva mirrored my niece in every way, except for the apparent age difference.

She got up slowly, bracing herself against the wall. Not one to show weakness, she started to skate again, only to have her toe pick catch the ice. She fell down, landing on her hands and knees, while others swerved to keep from hitting her. Being the gentleman I was, I went over to her (gracefully might I add) and helped her up carefully. Ziva leaned on me heavily, grasping my coat tightly so she didn't fall again. I smiled at her reassuringly and began to move forward. Everything was going smoothly until she picked up her foot. Once again, she managed to stumble. This time though, she brought me down with her.

"Really Ziva? You dodge bullets, you cook, you speak more languages than I've even heard of, and you can kill someone with a paperclip… 18 different ways!" I stared at her with wide eyes, trying to make her see how ridiculous this was. "Yet…" I paused to shake my head in mock disappointment, "You can't do something as simple as ice-skate?"

Ziva glared at me unhappily. "I didn't exactly have time to learn something as frivolous as this during my childhood years." She told me stiffly, as if I would never understand.

I struggled to keep things light. We had today off work, and Ziva and I decided to have some fun together. I got to my feet, pulling Ziva up with me. "It's never too late to learn!" I said optimistically. I put my arm around her waist, making sure I had a strong hold so I would catch her if she started to fall. "Now come on. Do it with me."

I moved my foot forward on the ice in an exaggerated movement so she could see how it was supposed to be done. She copied me perfectly; she had always been a quick learner. For the next hour or so, we slid across the ice together in slow controlled steps. When she had gotten the hang of it, I decided she could do it alone without the risk of hurting herself or others. "Are you ready?" I asked her excitedly.

Ziva nodded hesitantly, determined to do it, but not happy about her own stubbornness.

We started skating through the rink, and halfway across, I let her go. She had her hands out in front of her to keep her balance, and was going slowly, but was still upright. She finally got to the other side without my help, me following closely just in case. She stopped herself on the wall and turned to face me. Ziva's face was alight with childlike wonder. She beamed up at me, her smile radiant. I felt her slim arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into a hug. "Thank you Tony!" She said happily, and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek for good measure.

I grinned at her cockily, "Yeah, well, I've always been a good teacher." I draped my arm around her shoulders and we skated back to the middle of the ice. She insisted on staying a little while longer, saying she needed to practice her newfound skills.

Finally, long after the sun had set, we headed out to the parking lot. I opened my car door for her, not caring when she said she could do it herself. I slipped into my own seat, starting the engine immediately. We drove in comfortable silence to her house, and reached it quickly. I stepped out of the car with her so I could walk her to the door. She unlocked her door, before saying thank you again.

I pulled a white rose out from my bag, handing it to her. "I had a great time Ziva. I'll see you at work tomorrow." She stared at me for a moment, then glaned down at the rose she held gingerly in her hands. I turned and walked back to my car, then drove back to my house.

Innocence. White roses represent innocence. Today, when Ziva was skating, you could see the innocence in her eyes, and the way she smiled. When she learned another trick she should have been taught in her early years, she seemed to be a younger, more innocent Ziva. I'm so glad I had a chance to see that side of her.

…

Ziva looked down at the rose she Tony gave her. It was delicate, still in bloom. She smiled for what seemed the hundredth time that day. Today had been so amazing, and this rose would be her memento so she could remember that day. She placed it in the vase with the yellow and black rose, thinking of how beautiful her growing collection was.

…

I walked into the bullpen the next day, tired and sore from my fall on the ice. Suddenly something hit me on my forehead. I jumped, surprised, and looked down to see the paper football that had landed on my desk. Then I looked up and saw Ziva giggling at my shocked expression.

I guess she has been, and always be, innocent.

_Sorry it's late! I had summer gym:( for six and a half hours every day so I don't have a ton of time. __( I'm just taking it so I don't have to take it during the school year. )_


	4. Gratitude

_Disclaimer: 11:11 people. Every. Single. Night. My wish for Michael Weatherly and the rest of the NCIS cast has yet to come true._

_I am a horrible person! I am so so so sorry for waiting this long to update! I was at camp for a month and then I just wanted to get used to school again. Lame excuse, I know. I will try to post a new chapter at least once a week if not more._

_Thanks for not giving up on me yet! This is your reward!_

Chapter Four : Gratitude

Sometimes, you don't think. Your mind goes completely blank, and you seem to be paralyzed. The world slows down; sounds never reach your ears, words on the tip of your tongue refuse to leave, faces freeze and all mirror the same emotion. Terror.

Suddenly your mind goes into hyper-drive, but your body stays rooted to the floor. You _know _you need to drop. You _know_ you have enough time to do exactly that. Drop. Onto the floor. Away from the terrorist getting ready to squeeze the trigger releasing the bullet that will end your life. You know this, but you can't do it.

At least… that's what happened to me. You? You have probably never had an experience like this. And I hope you never do. It's the most frightening thing: Being seconds away from death yet unable to move, seemingly unable to control your body.

I've heard stories about death. I watched countless movies, seen endless amounts of T.V. shows, and have read dozens of books. I even had a near death experience when I got the plague. So I of course expected a slideshow of my life to take over. Replay everything and anything I had ever done in my life. But I was stuck in the present. All I could do was stare down the barrel of the gun that will end my life.

But of course, I forgot. _Americans are always overly theatric._

Ziva tackles me to the floor, just as the shooter presses down on the dreaded trigger. I land on the floor, untouched. Not even a second later Gibbs and McGee take down the terrorist, handcuffing him securely to a sturdy metal post so we could take stock of other injuries. I turn to Ziva, already thanking her profusely. I stop cold when I see her. A deep rust colored liquid stains her shirt at an alarming speed. I see now where the bullet entered her shoulder, when she got me out of harms way. A pool of blood is forming on the floor and she lets out a small moan of pain before she lies down on the cold cement.

I rush to her side, and push down on her wound automatically. Her face turns chalky white, but she doesn't make another sound. "I'm sorry Ziva! Sorry!" I say this as I try to keep more blood from joining the rest on the ground. I know I am hurting her, but she is hell bent on making it seem like nothing.

"I am fine Tony," She tells me feebly. "I have lived through worse."

Hearing this, I flinch. _Worse?_ I think to myself. I notice her eyelids beginning to flutter, almost closing. I tap her gently on the cheek, consistently until she opens her eyes fully. "Don't go to sleep Ziva." I murmur quietly. "Stay with me here."

I turn to Gibbs who is getting down to kneel beside me. "Ambulance is on its way." He says it gruffly while staring at Ziva, concerned. As if on cue, we hear the siren blaring in the distance. I grab Ziva's hand, making her squeeze it as hard as she can so I know she's awake. The next few minutes are torture because all that I can concentrate on is her ragged breathing. As the car comes screeching to a halt, paramedics pour out and run to Ziva. They get her on a stretcher and in the ambulance in what I think must be record time. I get in the back with her without asking, not wanting to waste time arguing. Gibbs and McGee get into their car to follow us to the hospital. I can't help but notice how they stay with us even though the ambulance is going very fast because of the sirens. We get to the hospital and Ziva is carried through a set of swinging doors. When I try to follow, a nurse kindly tells me I have to sit in the waiting room. She also asks for Ziva's name and personal information. Her soft soothing voice causes my shoulders to slump, adrenaline moving out of my bloodstream. That had been keeping me standing, so I sit in a chair without complaint, suddenly needing the support.

Gibbs and McGee run into the waiting room, eyes searching. They catch sight of me and nurse, and join us quickly. The nurse answers questions we have, but knows nothing about Ziva's condition yet. Seeing the worry etched into my face, she promises to come find me when she knows something.

Hours pass and we still know nothing. Gibbs tells us to go home for the night to clean up and get some sleep. I notice he keeps glancing at my hands, which is when I notice they are caked in dry blood. Ziva's blood.

I refuse to go home but I get up to wash my hands of blood. When I come back McGee is gone, and the Boss is almost falling asleep in his chair. I tell him to go home, that I won't be going anywhere tonight. "I'll call you if anything happens." I say.

He looks at me sternly. "Anything." He says to me. "Even if it's only a cough, you call. Got it DiNozzo?"

He finally leaves and I sit back down, trying to get comfortable. It seems sitting is a lost cause, so I wonder around the hospital, stopping only at the gift store and cafeteria. When I get back to the waiting room, the nurse is waiting for me. "She's awake!" She tells me happily and brings me straight to her room. I open the door slowly; then cautiously I step inside.

Her shoulder is heavily bandaged and there seems to be tubes everywhere. Her chocolate curls lay limp and her golden skin is slightly paler than normal. But her eyes brighten when she spots me and I have to smile. I sit in the vacant chair by her bed and pull out something from the gift shop bag. In my hand I hold a delicate peach colored rose. It seems more gentle than the ones I had held before it, which matches the meaning.

Gratitude. She has saved my life today, and I will never forget that. No matter how often I tease her, or get frustrated with her, I hope she realizes I will always be in her debt.

I lay it on her bedside table. "For saving my life." I say simply. She gazes at the beautiful flower, as if in a trance. I kiss her forehead lightly then go outside in the hall, telling her I need to call Gibbs.

…

A couple weeks later, Ziva is allowed to go home. Making sure to bring the peach rose with her, she leaves the hospital. Before going to bed that night, she places the flower in the vase carefully. It was softer than the others, she decided. But just as meaningful.

…

Eventually, Ziva comes back and things go back to normal. After a few hard cases and being on each others' six the whole time, I know she will forever have my gratitude.

_I hope you like it! Please review! Come on... You know you want to!_

_By the way, this isn't beta-ed so sorry for mistakes._


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